On the next day, the fair-meeting was held at Dr. Blackwell's. The new plan was brought forward; and, although it was as yet nothing but a plan, it acted like a warm, soft rain upon a field after a long drought. The knitting and sewing (for which I have a private horror under all conditions) were laid aside, to my great relief; and the project was talked of with so much enthusiasm, that I already saw myself in imagination making my evening visits to the patients in the New-York Infirmary; while all the members present (and there were unusually many; I think, six or seven) discussed the question the next day among their circles of friends, whether Henry Ward Beecher or a physician of high standing should make the opening speech in the institution.
This excitement increased the interest exceedingly and the succeeding meetings were quite enthusiastic. The babies' stockings were never again resumed (don't think that, because I detested those stockings so much, I am cruel enough to wish the little creatures to go barefoot); but plans were made for raising money in New York, and for getting articles for sale on a larger scale. Dr. Blackwell wrote to her sister. Dr. Emily Blackwell, who was at that time studying in England, requesting her to make collections among their friends in that country; which she did with success.
After having thus thoroughly impressed the public mind with the idea that the Infirmary must be opened, we began to look about for a suitable house. In autumn, I went to Boston to see what aid could be obtained there. I cannot tell you here in what manner I became acquainted with a circle of noble women, who had both means and the disposition to employ them for such a purpose: it suffices to say, that I interested them in the undertaking and obtained a hundred dollars towards the expenses of the fair, together with a promise of a large table of fancy-goods, and an invitation to come again in case any further aid was needed. At the end of three weeks, I left Boston for Philadelphia; but here I was not successful, as all who were interested in the medical education of women contributed largely already to the Philadelphia College. A small table of fancy-goods was the result of my visit there. The money and promise of goods that I received in Boston stimulated our friends in New York to such a degree, that, in spite of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell's doubts as to whether we should cover the expenses, the fair realized a thousand dollars. Yet this was not half sufficient to commence the proposed hospital; and I therefore proposed to Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell that I should go on another begging tour through New England, while she and her sister (Dr. Emily Blackwell, who had arrived from England a week before the fair) should arrange matters in New York, where they had more acquaintances than I. I went for the second time to Boston in February, and met with unexpected success; bringing back about six hundred dollars in cash, with promises of a like sum for the ensuing two years. I had represented our scheme as a three-years' experiment In the mean time, the Drs. Blackwell had hired a large, old-fashioned house, No. 64, Bleeker Street, which we had looked at together, and which was very well suited to our purpose, devoting the rest of their time chiefly to endeavors to interest the Legislature in our enterprise; the result of which was, that, though nothing was granted us that spring, the next winter, when we could show our institution in operation, the usual dispensary grant was extended to us.
On the 3d of April, I returned from Boston, and almost immediately went to work with some of our lady-managers to order beds and to furnish the house and dispensary, and also to superintend the internal changes. After five weeks of hard work, I had the pleasure, on the 15th of May, 1857, of listening in the wards of the New-York Infirmary to the opening speeches delivered by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, Dr. Elder, and Rev. Dudley Tyng.
A few days afterwards, I admitted the first house-patient and opened the dispensary, which I attended two days in the week; Drs. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell taking charge of it for the remaining four days. I had offered two years' gratuitous services as my contribution to the Infirmary, remaining there not only as resident physician, but also as superintendent of the household and general manager; and attending to my private practice during the afternoon. The institution grew rapidly, and the number of dispensary patients increased to such an extent, that the time from seven in the morning until one in the afternoon was wholly occupied in the examination of cases. In the second year of the existence of the Infirmary the state of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell's health compelled her to go to Europe: and for nine months Dr. Emily Blackwell and I took charge of the business, which at this time was considerable; the attendance at the dispensary averaging sixty daily.
During the course of this year, I received letters from some of the Trustees of the New-England Female Medical College in Boston, inquiring whether I were inclined to take charge of a hospital in connection with that institution. A consultation on the subject with Drs. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell seemed to prove to us, that by doing this, and helping the college to attain its objects, we could probably best aid the cause of the medical education of women. After hesitating for a long time what course to pursue, I went to Boston in the spring of 1859, in order to define in a public address my views and position in respect to the study of medicine. I found so great a desire prevailing for the elevation of the institution to the standard of the male medical colleges, and such enthusiasm in respect to the proposed hospital, that I concluded at once to leave the Infirmary; Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell's absence having proved that it could be sustained by two, not only without loss, but with a steady increase, secured by the good done by its existence. Having fulfilled my promise of two years to the institution, on the 5th of June, 1859, I left for Boston, where I am now striving to make the hospital-department as useful as the New-York Infirmary is to the public and the students.
Now, my dear Mary, you may think me very long in my story, especially in the latter part, of which you know much already; but I could not refrain from writing fully of this part of my life, which has been the object of all my undertakings, and for which I have borne trials and overcome difficulties which would have crushed nine out of ten in my position. I do not expect that this will be the end of my usefulness; but I do expect that I shall not have to write to you any more of my doings. It was simply in order that you, my friend, should understand me fully, and because you have so often expressed a wish to know my life before we met, that I finished this work. Now you have me externally and internally, past and present: and although there have been many influences besides which have made their impressions on my peculiar development, yet they are not of a nature to be spoken of as facts; as, for instance, your friendship for me.
On looking back upon my past life, I may say that I am like a fine ship, that, launched upon high seas, is tossed about by the winds and waves, and steered against contrary currents, until finally stranded upon the shore, where, from the materials, a small boat is built, just strong enough to reach the port into which it had expected to enter with proudly swelling sails. But this ambition is entirely gone; and I care now very little whether the people recognize what is in me or not, so long as the object for which I have lived becomes a reality.
And now, my good friend, I must add one wish before I send these last few pages to you; namely, that I may be enabled some day to go with you to Berlin, to show you the scenes in which my childhood and youth were passed, and to teach you on the spot the difference between Europe and America. All other inducements to return have vanished. The death of my father during the last year severed the last tie that bound me to my native place. Nearly all the men who aided in promoting my wishes have passed away; and the only stimulus that now remains to revisit the home of my youth is the wish to wander about there with you, and perhaps two or three other of my American friends. Until this can be accomplished, I hope to continue my present work in the New-England Female Medical College, which, though by no means yet what we wish it to be, is deserving of every effort to raise it to the stand that it ought to take among the medical institutions of America.
Yours with love,